I came to acting the way most things worth doing arrive, slowly, then all at once. I'd been studying philosophy at Berkeley, reading the Upanishads in the morning and Dostoevsky at night, trying to understand what it is to be a person who is actually here. Acting, when I found it, felt like the same question asked with the body instead of the page.
My training is in Meisner, a craft built on listening, on truthful response, on what happens between people when nothing is being performed. Under Jim Jarrett in San Francisco, I'm learning to put down the cleverness and pick up the simpler, harder thing: be present, behave truthfully, let the moment land.
Outside the studio I box four mornings a week, run long distances, sit in pranayama, and read the way some people pray. I grew up in a family of builders (real estate, infrastructure), so I'm comfortable with long projects, with showing up before anyone is watching. I think of acting that way: a practice, not a performance.
What I want to make is work that feels like it costs something. Stillness that isn't empty. Volume that isn't loud. I'm building toward characters who carry contradictions: devotion and doubt, tenderness and force, without resolving them too quickly.
